


Limitless

by empatheticidiot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Second Person, Personal Growth, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Two Shot, classmates to friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empatheticidiot/pseuds/empatheticidiot
Summary: You looked up once more at the darkening sky and closed your eyes, wanting the last thing you saw to be the sky, a symbol of freedom. Inhaling the crisp, cool air deeply for one final time, you found yourself relaxing at the thought of ridding yourself of the pain, the pressure, the pretense, everything....But then life had a funny way of intervening in the form of a distressed volleyball captain.Warning: suicide attempt, implied child abuse
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right after Aoba Johsal loses to Karasuno during the Spring Inter-High Qualifiers. 
> 
> In this fanfic, Oikawa doesn't walk home with Iwaizumi after their final team practice (ref. ending of the third movie).
> 
> This is my first Haikyuu fanfic about Oikawa Tooru (I've only watched the anime), so if there are any personality discrepancies in his character here, please let me know! Feedback is always appreciated! :)
> 
> WARNING: suicide attempt, implied child abuse

You gazed up and admired the beautiful sky, hues of orange and red blending aesthetically with the blue as the sun was nearly done with its descent in the horizon. There was a cool breeze through the air, a sure sign that fall was beginning to transition into winter. Winter would transition to spring, and then you would be done with high school and off to whatever university would have you.

Or at least, that had been the plan.

Your shoulders slumped, fatigue and exhaustion taking over you from head to toe. You averted your eyes downward, finding it slightly amusing that the massive trees in the courtyard now looked no larger than a hundred-yen coin from your spot at the rooftop of the four-story building of Aoba Johsai High School. It had been awhile since you had felt like you were on top of the world. A long while.

You didn’t know when things had started to go downhill. One thing just continued to pile on top of another, the weight of it all struggling on your worn-out shoulders.

And you knew you couldn’t take it anymore. Nothing was worth the pain and the inevitable disappointment that awaited you.

You looked up once more at the darkening sky and closed your eyes, wanting the last thing you saw to be the sky, a symbol of freedom. Inhaling the crisp, cool air deeply for one final time, you found yourself relaxing at the thought of ridding yourself of the pain, the pressure, the pretense, everything.

And you slowly began to release your grip on the railing as you let yourself lean forward, allowing gravity to begin to take control.

All was finally at peace.

The sound of the rooftop door slamming open was loud and sudden, enough to jerk you out of your trance and hastily grasp the railing. Your eyes wide and heart thudding erratically from the surprise, you turned your head to see who was bold and brash enough to break into the school building. Or maybe a teacher had seen you from a distance.

But, no.

Surprise didn’t even begin to describe your state of mind as you saw Oikawa Tooru, school heartthrob and volleyball captain, take long strides in his volleyball uniform to another side of the railing, apparently not having seen you to his right as he walked. You began to wonder what someone like him was doing at the school this late.

He gripped the railing and hunched over, and from where you were you saw his arms trembling and his knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on the metal rail. A choked sob escaped his lips, and your eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see drops of moisture dripping to the ground from his face that hid behind his arms from your perspective.

“Dammit,” he whispered, voice so soft that you thought you had imagined him speaking. “Dammit,” he growled again, his voice more audible.

His hands released the railing, fingers curling into fists, before he banged them against the railing hard enough that you felt the vibration from where you were sitting. He suddenly stood up straight and lifted his head to face the sky above before he screamed at the top of his lungs, “God dammit!!!”

You flinched as his voice cracked, thick with emotion.

He was silent after that, his pose still the same.

After a few seconds, there was a _ping_ from his pockets. He took a moment before slowly reaching into the pocket of his white and mint club jacket and pulling out his cellphone, the light of the screen illuminating his face in the night’s veil. Whatever was on the screen, he smiled bitterly before dropping his phone to the ground and stomping on it once, the impact of his heel strong enough to crack the screen and effectively destroy the phone’s life as the screen immediately went dark. “Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he said through gritted teeth. He used his jacket sleeve to wipe at his face before lifting his face to see the city lights in the distance, his eyes relaxing into a trance from their earlier tension.

You watched him grab the railing again, lighter this time, and take in a deep breath.

And he swung one long leg over the railing.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you automatically called out, “If you’re going to do that, wait your turn.”

Your voice startled him, his entire figure flinching in surprise. He jerked his head around to his right with wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. “(Name)…?” he called back in disbelief. “What’re you doing here?” His eyes took in your figure, your position, where you were sitting before they widened in shock as he processed what you were about to do. “What do you think you’re _doing_?”

You regarded him with cool eyes. “Apparently what you were also planning to do.” You lifted a hand from the rail and pointed a finger at him. “If you’re going to do it, pick another day. I don’t need people thinking we were secret lovers if they find both of us post-mortem.”

He quickly swung his leg back to the safe side of the railing and released his hold on the metal rail, holding out his hands in front of him in a cautious stance. “Hey, okay! Just grab the rail!” he called out in panic, fear gripping him.

You rolled your eyes and lightly gripped the rail again. “Why do you want to jump?” you asked curiously.

“Listen, I’ll answer you, (Name). Just, _please_ ,” he pleaded, taking slow steps towards you with his hands still out in front of him. “Please come back over.”

There was a blatant desperation in his tone that gripped you, his eyes both troubled and begging. It mildly surprised you to see the distress on his face considering he had come up here to do the same act as you had been planning to do. “I don’t plan on changing my mind, Oikawa.”

“Just come down first!” he cried out.

Not hearing an argument in his pleading, you decided to comply for now. “Okay, jeez.” You lifted a hand from the rail to twist and lift one leg over. As you started to swing your leg back over, the majority of your weight began to tilt forward over the railing from having scooted forward earlier. When half your hip slipped off the rail, the sudden imbalance you weren’t expecting threw you off guard. As a knee-jerk reaction, you tried to balance the weight on the side of the hip that was on the rail, but there was no defying the law of physics and the sudden increase in weight on that side that was being supported by a single, _rounded_ metal rail. Your heart leapt to your throat as you felt your body slipping forward and off the roof. “Shit!” you shrieked as you began to fall, the hand that had been gripping the rail losing its hold as it suddenly held all of your weight.

You were probably only hanging for a second, but that second felt like minutes before a warm hand grabbed your wrist. “(Name)!” Oikawa screamed, now using both hands to pull you up by your wrist. “Grab the rail!” he shouted as he lifted you back up as fast as he could.

You grunted as you used your other hand to reach up as high as you could and held onto the rail you had been sitting on only seconds prior, using whatever little upper-body strength you had to try to pull yourself up with his help. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of your face as you screamed through gritted teeth, your muscles burning as you lifted yourself centimeter by centimeter.

When your shoulder was close enough, Oikawa quickly released a hand from your wrist and wrapped it around your torso, giving him more muscles to use to help you up. As soon as your shoulders began to rise above the level of the rail, he wrapped his other arm around your torso and grunted as he used everything in him to lift and bring you over to safer ground. Your feet came back over the rail finally, and he stumbled and fell backwards with you still in his arms, him cushioning your fall.

A yelp escaped your lips as your head thudded against his chest, the smoothness of his volleyball jersey rubbing against your cheek.

For a long moment, you both laid there unmoving, only the sounds of both of you catching your breath filling the silence. From where your head remained on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding erratically as the faint scent of mint filled your nose. When you tried to get up, his arms tightened around you, a hand reaching up to cradle your head firmly against him. “Oikawa?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Give me a moment,” he whispered back, still wheezing to catch his breath. “Just a moment,” he repeated quietly, his voice strained.

So you did.

Soon enough, your breathing evened out. He quietly released you, and both of you ended up sitting on the floor next to each other, your backs against the bars of the rail. It was silent between you again.

You hugged your knees to your chest as the wind blew again, the temperature much lower than before. You heard him shuffle next to you, and the next thing you knew, he was wrapping his jacket around you. You turned your head to look at him as he sat back down, only a few centimeters in between you two. “Aren’t you cold?” you asked, seeing him in only his warm-up pants and collared jersey t-shirt.

He tilted his head in your direction and sent you a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. The Oikawa Tooru you had come to know before today was an incredibly huge flirt with nearly all the girls. It was your first time seeing him so… _mellow._

Deciding not to refuse his kindness, you slipped your arms through the sleeves and zipped it up. You looked down at the white sleeves that were far too long for you, and you suddenly remembered the social media postings you had briefly looked at earlier on your phone. “You had those qualifier matches today,” you stated, turning your gaze on him once more. His face was pensive in response. “Against Dateko and Karasuno.” You didn’t need to add or ask any further; him flinching at the latter school’s name told you all you needed to know about what had happened. And so you turned your gaze to the night sky, the stars visible now, unable to give him any sort of comfort besides your silence.

You were startled when he suddenly grabbed the baggy part of the sleeve of the jacket that you were wearing and looked at him to see him huddling his knees close to his chest with his other arm, his eyes miserable and looking toward the ground in front of him.

“I must look so uncool to you, (Name),” he mumbled.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “How brazen of you to think that I ever thought you were _cool_ ,” you said flatly. A cloud of gloom lingered over him as he sunk his head even lower into his knees, a whine escaping his lips. Sighing, you stretched your legs out. “I like this version of you better,” you said nonchalantly, making him look at you in surprise. Turning back up to the sky, you explained, “The mask you wear around in school is finally off. Now I feel like I’m seeing the _real_ Oikawa Tooru.”

He was quiet next to you for a good minute.

“I…wanted to take this team to Nationals,” he began quietly, resting his chin on top of his knees, his gaze cast downward. “Through junior high, there was one team—one _person_ —I couldn’t beat. And Iwa-chan and I told each other that we were going to take down _him_ and Shiratorizawa in high school and go to Nationals. But every single year since we got here, we always came this close to going and were always stopped by _them_.” There was a clear bitterness in his tone. His grip on your sleeve tightened. “When we lost to them at Inter-High, I told everyone that we would beat them at the Spring Inter-High Qualifiers and that we would be the ones to represent the Miyagi Prefecture at Nationals this year. We practiced harder, attended more practice matches. I even reinjured my _damn knee_ again trying to improve so that the next time we faced _him_ and Shiratorizawa, we would be the ones victorious. But even after all that…”

His voice trailed off as it hitched on a held-back sob, and you looked at him and saw the hot tears forming in his chestnut eyes as he viciously bit his lower lip to keep himself from crying, his chin trembling as he struggled to maintain his composure. The grip on your sleeve tightened even further to the point where his hand was shaking.

He drew in an unsteady breath, doing his best to blink back the tears. “Even after putting ourselves through hell for one more shot, we couldn’t even get far enough to face them a final time. Losing to Tobio-chan and Karasuno…” He clenched his other hand into a fist and pressed against his forehead as he shut his eyes tightly, his face scrunched up in pain and anger. “Because I stupidly went to receive a shot that would have gone out.” He bared his teeth, pressing his fist more against his head as his voice rose in volume. “What’s the point of being the captain of a powerhouse school, of leading one of the prefecture’s top four, if I couldn’t even beat Ushiwaka and Shiratorizawa even once!?” he shouted with everything he had, tears beginning to stream down his face. “That I…That I couldn’t even take us to Nationals even once,” he choked out painfully as he began to sob quietly.

Everything he said, the way he said it, tugged on your heart. You wanted to comfort him somehow, but the right words wouldn’t form in your head nor throat. So you did what you only knew how to do, what you only _could_ do.

You shifted and got up on your knees, turning to face him entirely. He slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head up to look at you, the crying slowing down. You reached up with your free hand—his hand still gripping the sleeve of your other arm—and patted his head gently. “It must have been incredibly hard and lonely for you to shoulder this big burden by yourself,” you murmured softly.

Another wave of tears filled his eyes, and his face scrunched up again. He leaned forward and pressed his face against your chest with his free arm wrapping around your waist, and as if your words had broken the last remaining pieces of the emotional dam inside of him, he wailed loudly and screamed into the jacket you wore as his tears began to soak through the material.

You moved the hand that had been patting him and wrapped your arm around his broad shoulders. Every time he screamed, his arm tightened around your waist, and you couldn’t help but squeeze his shoulder in response. Occasionally, you would rub circles into the middle of his back and pat his shoulder. What you couldn’t comfort through words, you did through your actions.

You didn’t know how long the two of you had stayed like that, but his sobs eventually slowed and quieted down before ceasing all together. He slowly released his hold on you and pulled his face away, refusing to look up to meet your gaze. You retracted your arm from around him and reached into your blazer pocket under the baggy jacket, pulling out your green handkerchief that had your name embroidered in black in one corner. Wordlessly, you held it out for him. When he slowly took it from you, you turned and sat back down next to him, your knees sore from having supported your weight and being stationary for a period of time.

He wiped his face before blowing his nose into it. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against the handkerchief.

Frowning, you flicked your finger against his temple, making him yelp in pain. “Don’t be stupid. You don’t need to apologize for being emotional,” you scolded. You knew he was regaining his composure when he slumped shoulders and pouted in response. “So, then, what do you plan on doing after high school?” you asked, then added, “Assuming you decide not to jump.”

Dropping the handkerchief from his face, yet holding it in his hands still, he looked back up at the stars in the sky. “I…still want to play volleyball,” he said slowly. “I want to go as far as I can—hell, maybe even the Olympics—and be able to beat Ushiwaka and Tobio-chan.” He paused and sighed as he frowned. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

The corner of your lips twitched up slightly. “Not at all,” you disagreed. Tapping the tips of your shoes together in front of you, you said, “I think it’s great to have that kind of ambition, to immerse yourself fully into something you’re committed to.” You glanced over to him. “Don’t give up.”

He merely stared at you with a scrutinizing look on his face. “Then, why are you giving up?” he asked in a low, serious tone.

Your fingers stopped fiddling with the pleats of your skirt, your gaze fixated on the tips of your shoes. Where did you even start to begin with? “Oikawa,” you began, earning a _hmm_ in response. “What do you know about me?”

He slouched slightly, folding his arms across his chest. “Your name is (Name), you’re about a hundred-sixty-seven centimeters tall, probably a B or C-cup—hard to tell since I’ve never seen you without your vest and blazer,” he rambled on, yelping again with you elbowed his ribs. Rubbing the sore spot, he continued in a more serious tone, “You’re Class President, your name is always within the top three ranked students at the end of each term, and rumor has it that you’re to receive acceptance in most of the top universities in the nation. I also heard that—”

“Stop,” you interrupted him abruptly, your tone taking on a sharper note than you had intended. “You can just stop there.”

He became silent, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You didn’t know where to start, so instead, you unzipped the volleyball jacket and unbuttoned your school blazer before shrugging them off. You undid the bow under your collar and slipped it off before lifting your vest up and over your head, dropping it to the side. Your fingers undid the buttons on your dress shirt one at a time.

Blushing, Oikawa covered his face and turned away, waving a hand out somewhere in your direction. “Wait, (Name), I was joking about the cup-size!” he stammered.

“I know,” you said, losing the energy to humor him. When his gaze was back on you, you brushed your long brown hair over your right shoulder and took a deep breath before turning your back towards him and shrugging your shirt off, exposing just the area from your neck to your waist. You revealed to him the color of your bra.

And the scars.

You heard him intake a sharp breath. “What… _how_ …?” he fumbled for words, not knowing where to start asking.

You put your clothes back on, including his jacket, and bent your knees up to your chest to roll down your black knee-high stockings to reveal more gashes that decorated the back of your legs, some scarred and some scabbed over.

He sat up straight now and turned his entire body to face you, eyes wide as saucers with horrified brown irises.

When you rolled your stockings back up, you hugged your knees. “I’m tired,” you finally said softly, letting weariness and exhaustion finally take hold of you. “From even before I could write my own name, my entire life had been planned out. They’re my parents, so I trusted their judgement, and everything was okay until my last year at Chidoriyama. The next part of the plan was to be accepted into Shiratorizawa.” You paused for a moment and turned your head slightly to smile warily at Oikawa. “Did you know I wanted to go to Karasuno with my friends?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Then how did you end up here?”

Your smile dropped quickly as you remembered. “I passed the entrance exam for Shiratorizawa, but I didn’t score high enough to earn a scholarship. They were livid, screaming at me the rest of the day after results came out. And when they found out I was planning to go Karasuno from my teacher, they took away my phone and deleted all my friends’ numbers and went so far as to change my number.” You rested your chin on your knee, staring at the ground in front of you now. “ _Your friends are filling your head with ridiculous ideas, you don’t need them_ ,” you repeated bitterly. “So they thought in my case, it was best for me to go to Aoba Johsai, be the best here, and go to Tokyo U to become a cardiothoracic surgeon.” You recalled the numerous times they shoved medical books and books about how to go to medical school in your face when you had been trying to complete your geometry homework.

“They decided your career for you?” he asked, astonishment in his voice.

You nodded once. “On my birthdays and holidays, their gift to me was either another cram school tuition or more study books. They used to say, _(Name), there is no better gift than the gift of a promising future_ ,” you said, mimicking your father’s guttural tone. Then you sighed. “And for a while, I believed them. I studied hard, became an honors student, achieved the role of Class President. I managed to balance schoolwork with my role to manage, lead, and direct the officers and the students.”

When your pause lingered on, he asked quietly, “What changed?”

You tightened your fists, biting your lower lip momentarily. “My Vice President and Secretary were talking about what they wanted to become after we graduate. This was probably towards the end of our second year,” you added, recalling how far back. “One wanted to pursue her desire to become a musician and play with a famous philharmonic one day; the other wanted to become a teacher because he wanted to make a positive impact on the next generation. And I asked myself for the first time: why do I want to become a cardiothoracic surgeon?”

You felt hot tears forming behind your eyes, and you tilted your head up towards to sky to keep them from leaking. “Then I realized I had no idea what I wanted to, what I had been working so hard for for the past decade of my life. And when we became third-years, I found that I _hated_ the sciences; I could care less about the detailed process of cell division, the importance of carbon molecules, or Newton’s law of gravity. So I told my parents I didn’t want to pursue medical school anymore; _angry_ doesn’t even begin to describe their reactions and eventually…” you trailed off, lifting a hand and reaching across your body to lightly tap at your back. You were used to the punishment of the bamboo stick to the back of your legs whenever you scored below a ninety-five or ranked below the top two in the school. But that day, you remembered vividly how both of your parents grabbed whatever they could and lashed at your body with you trying to shield yourself in the corner of your room, definitely remembered the scathing pain of it all.

You hastily wiped the stray tear that made its way down your face. “I’m just tired of it all,” you whispered. You were tired of the fake smiles, the long meetings of the student council, the pressure of scoring high.

You were tired of living your life that wasn’t even your own.

You suddenly felt him pinch your cheek and squeaked in pain as he pulled on it. “Ow, wuah the—sthop!” you shouted. When he released you, you rubbed the soreness and turned to glare at him. “What was that for!?”

There was neither the humor nor lightness in his eyes that you were used to seeing in school. Instead, he stared you down hard, looking nearly angry. “Then all you have to do is learn about yourself from here on out!” he shouted back, a hand reaching to grip your shoulder and turn your body to face him directly, the sudden movement causing you to nearly fall if his hand had released you.

Your eyes flared at him. “Why are you yelling at me!?” you shouted, trying to shove his hand off you but found he had an iron grip on you.

“Are you really that scared of becoming independent!?”

You stopped struggling against him, stunned at the question. “…eh?”

His hand loosened its grip on your shoulder but still remained where it was. “You decided to not follow your parents’ expectations anymore, right? That’s you finally thinking for yourself!” He leaned in slightly. “It’s okay to be scared of not knowing where you want to go right now. But instead of running away from an unknown future, grab the chance to learn more about who (Name) is and what she wants to do with her life. What happened with your parents was terrible, and I’m sorry they did those things to you. But no matter what, keep moving forward and don’t look back.”

Your mouth moved, trying to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. You didn’t know what to say to that, to the new revelation. The concept of an unknown future was foreign to you, and it terrified you down to your core.

His hand slid off your shoulder and went back to rest in his lap. “Do you still want to jump?” he asked seriously.

“…I…” There was a swelling feeling in your chest, your stomach unsettling.

“Are you going to continue to let your past cage you in?”

“…no,” you finally whispered, and as the word left your lips there was a sudden feeling of liberation. “No,” you said again, more firmly this time. The weight started to fall of your shoulders. You felt like you could finally _breathe_.

The rush of emotions was abrupt and unexpected, and you didn’t know how to process it but to start crying. Tears flooded down your face and you wiped vigorously at them with the sleeve of the jacket that you wore.

His arms came around you, a hand gently patting your back. “Good answer,” he sighed in relief.

.

.

.

The moment was interrupted by his stomach grumbling loudly through the silence.

He pulled away from you quickly and laughed as he scratched the back of his head. “Let’s go grab ramen, (Name)!” he declared excitedly.

You pressed a hand to your mouth as you giggled at his delight over food. “Yeah, I’m getting hungry anyways,” you agreed as you got to your feet and went to grab your schoolbag. “Know any good places?”

Grinning, he replied, “Of course I do! Let me just get my stuff and—”

When he stopped talking all of a sudden, you turned towards him curiously and saw his shoulders slumped forward with a cloud of gloom lingering over his head. “What’s wrong?” Then you saw him pick up his broken phone from the floor. “Ah…”

He grabbed your hand and ran towards the rooftop door. “We have to go to the phone shop before it closes!”

Running down the staircase and out the school gates with him, you were laughing from the heart, feeling lighter with each step you took.

Finally feeling _free_.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your comments and kudos!!! >O<

You stood barefoot in the sand and gazed at the sun setting in the distance, letting the thinning waves submerge them every few seconds and progressively making you sink a little lower in the sand every time. Your waist-length brown hair danced around you, the cool breeze of the beach surrounding you with the scent of the sea.

It had been a long six years since you had met Oikawa Tooru on the rooftop on the day that you had intended to die, since you gave yourself a second chance at living the life you wanted.

* * *

_Flashback…_

“Is this everything?”

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and looked around your room. “Yeah. You sure it’s not too heavy for you guys?” you asked warily.

Iwaizumi Hajime, who Oikawa dragged along, picked up a box of essentials. “We’re okay, don’t worry about us,” he said firmly.

Oikawa hoisted a large duffel bag of miscellaneous things over his shoulder. “You sure, Iwa-chan? Last time we were in the weight room, Kunimi-chan out-benched you; and he’s super lanky, too!” he pointed out.

You giggled as Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa viciously in the back and as Oikawa yelped as he was thrown off balance being forced out the bedroom door. You followed behind the two with a rolling luggage filled with all your clothes and glanced back at your room one final time before shutting the door behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing in _my_ house?” a thundering voice demanded from the entrance of the house.

You turned the corner and saw your parents coming in through the front door and Oikawa and Iwaizumi standing in the hallway not too far from them. Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa with a raised brow, and Oikawa met his gaze with a single nod, the playful atmosphere from earlier dissipated.

Your mother saw you standing behind the boys. “(Name)! What are they doing here holding your things!?” she demanded.

You met her gaze evenly. “I’m leaving.”

There was a brief, stunned silence in the air before your father bellowed, “ ** _What_**!?” He tried to shove towards you, but Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder, refused to budge. “Explain yourself!” he shouted as he tried to use an arm to shove through. “Get out of my way!” he demanded the two male students in front of him.

Oikawa used his full-wattage smile on him. “Sorry~ but if you want to talk to (Name), you can do it from here,” he said in a sing-song tone.

Your heart was thudding erratically against your chest, your hand becoming clammy with sweat. “I’m leaving,” you repeated more firmly this time. “I’ll figure out what I want to do with my future on my own.” You straightened out your shoulders, feeling bolder and more confident with each word that left you. “Whether I skip university and work at a café, become some kind of artist, or do something nonconventional, it’ll be my choice and mine alone.”

Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi turned their heads slightly around to send you supportive smiles.

Your mother looked both furious and horrified simultaneously. “Ungrateful,” she hissed inaudibly. She lifted her fiery gaze and directed it towards you as she lifted her hardcover briefcase as if to throw it. “I didn’t know that I raised such an ungrateful girl! After all the support and money we invested in you!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs as she hurled the expensive briefcase in your direction.

As if it was a knee-jerk reaction, both volleyball players threw their arms in the air above their heads to block the briefcase before it even came near you. The briefcase fell the floor with a _thud_.

Oikawa chuckled humorlessly, eyes becoming dark. “Who knew we’d use our defensive training for this,” he mused.

But Iwaizumi wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he glared at the so-called parents in front of him and stepped forward in a way that had them stepping aside immediately, anger radiating off of him vigorously to the point where even Oikawa shivered subtly. “Let’s go,” was all he said.

Oikawa mocked a salute before putting a hand on your shoulder and leading you out the door while Iwaizumi continued to act as a barrier between you and your parents. 

When the cold wind hit you as the three of you headed towards your new temporary housing, your cheeks flushed with a gradual growing happiness. Your heart continued to thud at a fast pace out of the fear of the unknown future that awaited you, but also out of excitement for figuring out what’s to come. It felt as if you could grow wings and fly right then and there with each step you took.

Oikawa glanced at you as he walked next to you, and his eyes widened. “Eh?”

You paused in your step and sent him a confused glance. “What?”

Iwaizumi understood the look on Oikawa’s face and continued to walk while shaking his head.

A faint blush tinged Oikawa’s cheeks as he slightly averted his gaze away from your face. “I’ve never seen you smile like that before,” he mumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

“Hurry up!” Iwaizumi shouted from ahead of you.

You ended up spending the rest of your third year living with the elderly mart owner a few blocks away from school thanks to Iwaizumi introducing her to you and explaining your situation. The lady warmly welcomed you to stay in the living space above the mart as her granddaughter had moved out a long time ago, and you compensated for her generosity by helping around the mart on weekends and after school.

As you continued to stay with the lady, a shift in your mood didn’t go unnoticed to others.

Towards the end of second term, a loud chatter went on throughout the school.

“(Last Name)-senpai! Did you really quit the Student Council!?”

You paused in the middle of the hallway and turned to see your Treasurer, who was a second-year, looking at you as if he had seen a ghost. You nodded once with a brilliant smile. “Yeah, I did.” When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, you hastily muttered an apology before making a run for it back to your class.

The second-year stood there stunned with the others who witnessed the exchange. “Has…(Last Name)-senpai always smiled like that?” he asked no one in particular, dazed.

Meanwhile, Oikawa stared after your retreating figure with a smile of his own.

“Hurry up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbled, pushing him with his foot against his back.

At the beginning of Spring Term…

“(Name)!”

You looked up from your phone as you sat in the courtyard under a tree and saw Oikawa approaching you with a bag of what looked to be his daily dose of milk bread in his hand. You waved once and watched him drop down onto the bench next to you before opening his lunch and munching on it.

“What’re you looking at?” he managed to ask with his mouth full, sipping his carton of milk as he leaned over to see what was on your screen. “Is that Brazil?”

You smiled and continued to scroll through more photos. “Yeah. I think instead of going to university, I want to try and travel outside of Japan. I’ll probably have to get a job somewhere and save up first, but I want to see the world outside of here,” you said eagerly, looking at photos of the Statue of Liberty in the United States and the different countries within South America. When you had told the guidance counselor earlier that you didn’t intend to enter university, he looked as if he’d have a heart attack any moment. Even though he had tried to persuade you to try at least, you had merely shaken your head and said that you wanted to see the world first. And looking at photos on social media only added onto your excitement to be able to see things for the first time.

Oikawa was silent for a moment, sucking the straw of a now-empty milk carton mindlessly with his face pensive in thought. Lowering the carton, he turned to you with a large smile. “You don’t need a job to travel later.”

You tilted your head to the side, raising a brow. “What’re you talking about?”

He grinned and pointed a thumb to himself. “Come with me to Argentina!”  
.

.

.  
“ ** _What!?_** ”

_End Flashback_

* * *

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, a kiss planted against your temple. “I was looking for you.”

You smiled, leaning back into him. “You didn’t have to look very far,” you replied simply.

You felt him grin against your ear. “Can you blame me for trying? My wifey-chan is very cute~”

Rolling your eyes, you thrusted your elbow backward into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and making him cough to catch his breath.

Once Oikawa Tooru caught his breath, he moved to stand next to you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as he rested his head on top of yours. “What were you thinking about?”

You reached a hand up and linked your fingers with the ones that rested on your shoulder. “I can’t believe it’s really been six years since then,” you murmured. Six years since you had met and befriended him. Six years since you had finally broke free from your parents. Six years since you had started living for _you_.

Five years since Tooru had asked you date him under a sky full of stars.

And after two years of constant badgering and pleading by Tooru until you had said _yes_ , you had also started living for your husband as well.

He grinned and nuzzled his head against yours. “How’s the adventure so far, Trainer and Manager-san?” he asked.

During the earlier part of your time in Argentina as Oikawa’s personal manager—it was how he was able to convince the head of the team to let you come with him—you had become interested in treating sports-related injuries and decided to do some research on sports medicine. Yes, you did hate the sciences in high school, and you had had no aspirations to become a cardiothoracic surgeon like your parents had wanted. But learning about how to effectively treat sprains, muscle tears, and mobility issues (to name a few) had led you to become a licensed trainer for both Oikawa and the team. It was medicine, but you decided how and what part of it to immerse yourself in.

You rested your head against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything,” you sighed contently.

“Hey, Oikawas! Hurry up to practice before coach yells at us again for being late!”

As relaxed as ever, Oikawa simply released you only to grab your hand before leading the way to the gym. “Me, too,” he agreed with you, giving you the brightest of smiles.

You squeezed his hand once as you followed him, a giggle escaping your lips.

In the world you had lived in before Oikawa marched into your life, you were constantly oppressed, caged, and let your potential be dictated by your mother and father. But now, here in Argentina…

…your potential, happiness, and prospect for an even greater future were absolutely limitless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for seeing this one through! <3


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